what a beautiful lie
by irmaida
Summary: Theirs is a story with all the elements of a fairy tale, so it must be right. (But really, it isn't.) —SnowCoin, for Sara.


_title_: what a beautiful lie

_summary_: Theirs is a story with all the elements of a fairy tale, so it _must_ be right. (But really, it isn't.) —SnowCoin, for Sara.

_a/n_: Why is it that every SnowCoin I write ends up fairy tale themed? Albeit, this is pretty different. Chronologically, this is set several years before Haymitch was even born, a few years before the first Quarter Quell, even, so if either Snow or Coin seem OOC, that's probably why. Or maybe I'm just that bad of a writer, which is pretty probable too. c:

_word count_ (without a/n's): 4427

* * *

**. **

She's a girl who likes painting and writing—fairy tales, especially. She likes creating worlds where everything is perfect and wonderful and happy. She likes reading about heroines who always get past their terrible beginnings and are rescued by perfect princes and find a _happily ever after_. She's inspired by these stories, and she stubbornly believes in them even after everything goes wrong in her life because, well, what else does she have to believe in?

She's a fairy tale expert, and she sees that theirs is a story with all the elements of a fairy tale, so it _must_ be right.

(But really, it isn't.)

_element i. the princess_

Alma Coin is not exactly a princess, but she supposes that she lives in a modern world, so her fairy tale must have a modern twist. Since real princesses don't exist in Panem (her kingdom), she's about as close as it gets.

She has a relatively happy childhood. Her mother left when she was little, but Alma doesn't really remember her, so it's not much of a tragedy. Her father fills the space of two parents easily—he's caring and doting. If anything, he spoils her. It's just sometimes, he's busy, and he's away on business trips for half the year. But she knows that her father really cares.

So, yes, a charmed childhood. Everything she wants, she can get. She can get the trendiest clothes and hairstyles and have the softest bed and eat the richest food. After all, she _is _the daughter of Minor Coin, one of the richest businessmen in all of Panem. Luxuries. A doting father.

She should be happy, and she supposes she is, but she feels a bit… empty. As if it isn't enough. She wants _more_. She's almost sixteen years old now, and it's taking an awfully long time for her prince to come and rescue her. She's happy, but that isn't enough; where's her prince and happily ever after?

_element ii. the kingdom_

Panem, her kingdom, is supposedly a "democracy," with presidents and everything. But it's really more of a beautiful kingdom because the presidency is more of a monarchy, with the title handed down from father to son, and the president living in a gorgeous mansion that she likes to think of as a palace. Their president is a beautiful king, in that way.

(He's like a king in many other, not-so-beautiful ways too.)

_element iii. the prince_

Coriolanus Snow comes to the party for Minor Coin.

Minor Coin—rich, influential, _useful_. Coriolanus has big, big dreams and much drive (he's willing to do _anything _to become president, no matter the cost) but no funding. He's already terribly in debt. But if he could get sponsorship from Minor Coin, he would not only get attention from the press—he would also get money.

So when he's invited over to the mansion for some party, he accepts it, even though he's not much of a partygoer. He enters the mansion, and the first thing he sees is a gigantic silk banner framed with flowers and gold coins reading "_Happy Sixteenth Birthday, Alma Coin!_" He observes the party scene—loud music booming from huge surround-sound speakers, dim lights that produce a multicolored disco glow, and a real-life chocolate fountain in the center surrounded by confetti and food and people. He tries not to feel too disgusted. He calculates how much the entire extravaganza must have cost and imagines the kind of girl this Alma Coin must be—spoiled, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, selfish and shallow. When he'd turned sixteen, just four years ago, the day had passed like any other, and he'd gone to work in the president's mansion as a low-status secretary.

But whatever. He's not here for Alma Coin. He's here for her father. But where is Minor Coin?

Coriolanus wanders around, trying to avoid the ridiculously-dressed and unnaturally-colored other party guests (he is _above _them) and looks for an older, dignified man. But fate is against him, and finding Minor Coin seems to be _impossible_.

All of a sudden, something furry and loud and black falls from the ceiling and plops straight into his arms, yowling all the way. He grabs the creature, whatever it is, with his hands, ready to strangle it or something when—

"Via!" a feminine voice exclaims. "There you are!"

He looks up and sees a girl in a black frilly dress and a golden, diamond-embedded tiara on her curly, pastel pink hair. "Oh, you caught Via! Thank you!" she exclaims, a red blush dotting her orange cheeks. She takes the black creature from his arms and cuddles it. "You're a very naughty kitty, Via. Don't you ever run again."

He blinks and refrains from mentioning how he almost strangled the cat because he's not stupid. Such an ornamental crown can only mean one thing. "Alma Coin," he says with his most charming smile. "What a pleasure to meet you." (Which is a lie.) "May I ask, where is your father tonight?"

"Dad?" she asks. "Oh, he's not here tonight. He's on a business trip."

Not here? Minor Coin wasn't here? He feels like slamming his head into a wall. When will he ever get an opportunity to meet Coin again? It's not like he can randomly show up in Coin's mansion—you need connections and money to do that. Unless… He looks over this Alma Coin girl. Perhaps she too can be _useful_, like her father.

"Ah, I see," he says. "Well, I might as well introduce myself. Coriolanus Snow, at your service."

_element iv. roses _

Alma's not really having that great of a birthday. She's disappointed because her father isn't here, and even if her father is gone for most of the year, he _always _makes it for her birthday. At least, he used to. Instead, he asked Rilfa to organize a party for her. And while Rilfa, her lady-in-waiting, is usually lovely, she doesn't really like Rilfa's vision of an "ideal party"—which is loud, crowded, extravagant, and involves _everyone_. Alma can't even recognize half of the people at her own party.

So she spends the majority of the party trying not to drink the spiked punch and playing with her cat, Via. At least Via is always there for her. Until Via runs away.

And that's how she meets Coriolanus Snow.

"Coriolanus Snow, at your service." He takes her hand and kisses it. An old-fashioned, but very charming gesture, she thinks, heart beating wildly. He's rather handsome too—natural brown hair and intelligent eyes. (She's always liked natural better than artificial.) She gauges him to be just a few years older than her, either in the late teens or early twenties.

"Are you enjoying your sixteenth party?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Well, I don't know half the people here…"

"Neither do I," he admits, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'm not really sure why I was invited, but at least I got to meet you, Miss Coin."

"Please, call me Alma," she says, blushing harder. He seems so mature and charming. A group of drunken teenage boys stumble past. He's so much more dignified than that.

They spend the entire party together, just talking. He's such a _gentleman_. He's not like Gideon. (A boy who Alma had thought was a prince, but he had been cheating on her. That was a year ago. She's become much more careful and intelligent since.)

By the time the party is over, it's late night, and she's invited Coriolanus Snow to come over to dinner the next day. He nods eagerly.

"I look forward to getting to know you better, Alma," he says, eyes twinkling. "I've only known you for one night, but I can already tell. You're special."

She swoons inside. He kisses her hand and presents her with a white rose. It's romantic, but not boldly so. It's charming, so charming, like out of a fairy tale.

_element v. true love_

By the end of the party, he's not only completely charmed Alma, but he's got an invitation over to dinner the next day. He's also gotten an estimate for when Minor Coin will be back—within a week.

_So_ easy. So quick and effortless and _easy_.

He plans carefully for what he will do with Minor and Alma Coin, as he believes that planning is key.

The next day, he goes to work as usual. It's terrible, and boring, and monotonous, and has no glory, being a secretary. But he'll be climbing up the ladder soon. It may be a bit difficult, because Panem is a monarchy-in-disguise, meaning that Chester Jude will inherit the title as soon as his father dies or retires, even though he's an incompetent fool. Next in line is his even more incompetent brother Lester, and then their cousin Ernold Chrome. There are many people ahead of him before the line reaches him, but if he works for it, some of those people may be… eliminated.

If he asks himself honestly, he's not really sure why he wants to be president so much. He has his logical reasons: he knows he's competent, and he'd manage the country so much better. And he deserves a better life, and become president will provide that. But, honestly, there's not much of a logical reason. He just _wants _it. He _needs _it.

After work, he goes home to his small, one-room apartment. He lives alone here. He never knew his parents, and he grew up under the care of his uncle, who also got him his job as a secretary. His uncle's dead now. His uncle never really cared about him, though, so he doesn't really care.

**.**

Coriolnaus begins coming over to her house daily, always with a white rose. They're just friends, which she's not complaining about because she's not sure if she's ready for something more. She hasn't been out in _so _long, not since Gideon. (Which is stupid, because Gideon was just a boy, and girls go through break-ups all the time.)

Rilfa is delighted. "Alma! He's perfect for you!"

"We're only friends," she says with a blush. "He doesn't like me that way, and I don't like him like that either. He's four years older than me anyway…"

Rilfa shoos her feeble excuses away with a wave of her hand. "Here he comes now. I'm telling you, Alma, he definitely likes you that way. Boys don't come to steadily visit you every day for four days unless they care."

"It's been _three _days, Rilfa."

"You've been keeping track!" Gleeful squealing.

"Rilfa, quiet down! He might hear you!"

**.**

They eat lunch together, under the supervision of a beaming Rilfa. Afterwards, she takes him upstairs to her room, with Rilfa still watching. At least that's one good thing about Rilfa. She's crazy, but she really cares.

"Interesting map," Coriolanus says, noticing the huge poster of Panem on her bulletin board. His fingers trace the outline of the image of District Thirteen. "I did not know that some maps still included all thirteen districts. Thirteen doesn't exist anymore."

She shrugs. "Well, it's really old. Dad had it as a child, and he found it in the attic. He was going to throw it out, but I wanted it. I thought it was… antique?" She blushes a bit. It seems silly now.

But Coriolanus only smiles. "Only you, Alma," he says affectionately. Her heart skips a beat.

Suddenly, there's the unmistakable honk of a car outside. Alma rushes to her window and can see a familiar black limousine parked in the courtyard. "It's Dad!" she exclaims. "He's here early." She gazes fearfully at Coriolanus. She hadn't been planning for Coriolanus to be around when her father came back. Of course, she'd like them to meet each other, but not like this!

But Coriolanus doesn't seem fearful. He seems confident and ready. He takes her hand (another skip of her heart) and says, "Well, let's go down to meet him."

**.**

Coin coming earlier than he expected throws a small loop into his plans, but he adapts quickly enough.

"Alma, dearest!"

"Dad!"

The minute they're downstairs, Alma's enveloped in a huge hug from her father. He observes the man; just like on the fliers, Minor Coin is a tall man dressed in an impeccable business suit with perfectly groomed silver hair. The pictures hadn't lied at all. Coriolanus is rather impressed, and it takes a lot for him to be impressed. And he obvious adores his daughter.

"So, you've been doing well, Alma? I'm so sorry I couldn't make it to your birthday… but you did get my birthday present, right? The party?"

"It was lovely, Dad. I know you try your best."

"That's good to hear, Alma. I worry about you, you know. I just want you to be happy. Which is why, good news! No more business trips for another five years. Won't bore you with the details, but I've decided I can do the majority of what's important for the business from here, with you."

(Why couldn't he have had a father like that?)

"Who's the gentleman off to the side?" Minor remarks, suddenly noticing Coriolanus in the corner. "Alma! Have you been seeing this man without telling me about it first?"

"No, Dad, I swear—I've only known him for three days anyway, and we haven't done anything bad—ask Rilfa, she's always been there to supervise—"

"I'm just teasing, dearest," her father interrupts. Turning to Coriolanus, he asks, "So, what's your name?"

"Coriolanus Snow," he replies. "And I have no intention of harming your daughter." (Which is a lie.)

"Mmhmm," says the older man skeptically. "But perhaps you should go now; I've just reunited with my daughter, and I'd like to spend some time with her _alone_."

Alma squirms uncomfortably. Coriolanus feels frustrated, but he knows that he has to be patient, so he nods and says, "Of course, sir. It's perfectly reasonable of you to want to spend some time with your daughter. You've been gone for a long time, and she is a truly remarkable girl." At this, Alma blushes and looks down. Coriolanus puts on his most charming smile. Coin looks a bit impressed. Okay, perhaps not impressed, but less skeptical, at least.

"Perhaps you should come over for dinner tomorrow night," Coin offers. "I would like to get to know you better, and I'm sure my daughter would too." Alma nods.

"It would be my pleasure."

**.**

It actually goes better than Alma expects, the dinner. By the end of the night, Coriolanus has absolutely charmed everyone, including her father. In fact, when Coriolanus left to go use the restroom, her father said, "Alma, I was a bit skeptical at first, but I'm really glad you've met someone and are finally moving on after last year. Hold onto him, okay, because he seems like he'd make a competent son-in-law one day."

To which she responded: "Dad! I've only known him for three, four days now! And we're just friends!"

The best part, however, is at the end of the dinner, when her father goes upstairs and leaves the two of them alone. Even Rilfa is gone, although she gave them a wink before they left.

"I suppose it's time to leave now," Coriolanus says. He looks a bit sad. "I rather enjoyed this, Alma. Thank you." He turns to leave.

But she doesn't want him to leave. "Wait!" He turns around. "Can I escort you to your car or something?"

He smiles. "That would be lovely."

They step outside together. It's a bit chilly, and she shivers. Coriolanus notices and offers her his jacket. It's one of the cheesiest, most cliché gestures out there, but it's so gentlemanly and romantic. She swoons inside and really thinks that it's time to move on after Gideon. What's more, her father wholly approves. And he really just is the perfect prince. She trusts him. She _wants _him. (His jacket smells of roses, and she may even love him.)

But instead of saying all this, she says, "You were amazing at the dinner tonight."

He shrugs and looks down modestly. "Did you really think so? I was so nervous about impressing you, um, your father."

Her heart is beating wildly, and the sweet scent of roses is filling her nose. (In the back of her mind, she wonders if it smells more dominant today and why.)

"You impressed my father really well," she says. "And you impressed me too."

She's not sure who starts it, but the next thing she knows, she's kissing him, and it's the happiest moment of her life.

**.**

They officially enter a relationship the next day, and they only get closer in the next six months. He comes over at least twice a week. Minor Coin seems to approve of him, and Alma positively _adores _him.

The funny thing is, the more he sees of Alma, the more he wants to see more of her. Which is absolutely ridiculous. After all, she only serves one very clear purpose—to help him get closer to her father, which will provide him funding, which will help him in securing the presidency. Alma is just another stepping stone, and he knows better than to get attached.

Still, she's—she's so innocent and naïve and gullible, with her nonsense about fairy tales and happiness and whatnot, and he can't help but to feel a little guilty at what he's planning to do to her and her father But feeling guilt is ridiculous. There are more important things—the presidency. He pushes weak thoughts out of his head and reviews what he has learned about the Coin fortune: Alma is set to inherit it once Minor Coin dies. However, Minor Coin would be more than willing to pass it down to his son-in-law, should Alma get married before he died.

"How was your outing with Dad today?" she asks. He's just come back from golfing with her father and now he's alone with Alma, sitting together on the porch swing of her balcony.

"It was great," he answers. "Were you okay with both me and your father gone?"

"I was fine, Coriolanus. I reread a few things in my library," she replies, showing him the cover of his book. The title reads _Popular Tales from Lost Civilizations_. "It's a children's book, but it's always been one of my favorites. It's so interesting and strange. I hear it's from before Panem, and it's _so_ strange…"

He smiles again. "Only you, Alma." It's become somewhat of his signature line. But in these past six months, he's learned that there are truly so many things that are only her, Alma.

There he goes again, thinking like that.

"What are you thinking of?" she asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Alma," he assures.

She bites her lip. "I notice it, you know," she says softly. "I notice the times when you're quiet, or sad. You can tell me why, you know. I know what it feels like." It's quiet for a while, but then she says, "I've been hurt too."

"I'm sorry," he says, surprised at how sincerely he means it. "You don't deserve to be hurt."

"It's okay," she says. "It's been almost two years. And I haven't thought of him in months, or felt hurt in a really long time. His name was Gideon." Pause. "Now it's your turn." She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

"My parents died when I was young," he finally tells her after a long silence. "I never knew family, until I met you and your father. But mostly you." He tells himself that he's only saying all this so he can secure Alma's favor and adoration—which is necessary according to his plan—but deep down he feels something else, something like attachment, like relief, like—but he promptly squashes that something else and puts on his fake, oh-so-charming smile.

She blushes. "I'd like it if you were part of the family, _officially_. Dad's always wanted a son. He doesn't say it to my face, of course, because I'm his only daughter, but it's pretty obvious that he does. Now he can have the both of us."

"And I can have you."

They don't say anything for a while after that. Alma snuggles into his chest, inhaling his scent of roses, and they stare out at the scene in front of them, the Capitol. They stare at the bright, neon signs lighting up the night and the cloudy air covering the moon, and they listen to the honking and yelling and rhythm of the city.

"Coriolanus?" Alma finally says after a few minutes.

"Yes?"

"I love you," she whispers.

"I love you too," he says automatically. (Which is a lie, but may become a truth.) He ignores the guilty pang in his heart. And then he kisses her, but he's thinking about poisons and how at the golf course today Minor Coin had showed his new revised will—Coriolanus Snow was listed as an heir.

There was a reason Minor Coin was revising his will lately.

(There was a reason Minor Coin was dying.)

_element vi. happily ever after _

Alma comes home one day from a haircut (it had taken four hours, but she simply adores her new zebra-patterned hair—the newest trend), and instead of finding her father and Coriolanus waiting for her with hugs, she finds Rilfa.

"Where are Dad and Coriolanus?" she asks idly, excited to show off her new hair. "Is Dad in his study? You heard the limousine honk, right?"

"A-alma."

Something in Rilfa's tone causes her to look at her, and she suddenly notices that her usually energetic servant looks tired and mournful.

"Rilfa?"

"Y-your father."

Rilfa hands her a piece of paper and then runs away, sobbing, wailing, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Alma's hands are trembling as she begins to read. She skips over most of it, too nervous to read it thoroughly, but some phrases stuck out. _"I've known that I'm dying for quite some time now." "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I didn't want you to worry. You were just so happy with everything." "But Coriolanus will take care of you, dearest." "I gave him the family fortune, Alma, because I trust him and he told me you two were planning to get married. I fully expect a grandchild by the next month."_

Her father is dead. She drops the piece of paper. It floats down.

But Coriolanus. Of course. Coriolanus will make all of this better. He'll… he'll take care of her. Hands still shaking, she reaches for her communicator and presses the button with Coriolanus's face. She waits as it dials, waits for him to pick up.

He doesn't.

**.**

A week has passed.

And Coriolanus hasn't showed up once.

She's terrified, because she's alone with no one but the servants. She waits and waits for Coriolanus this entire week, wearing his jacket (the same one that he'd given her the night they had first kissed, the one that smells of his roses) and reading her folk and fairy tale books for comfort. Sometimes, she reminds herself, the prince gets held up. Sometimes, he's fighting dragons. Sometimes, he has to struggle to rescue the princess, and the princess has to wait.

(But sometimes, he's not really a prince, and he abandons the princess.)

On the ninth day after her father's death, she is interrupted from her reading by a dark stranger. She doesn't really pay much attention to him at first and tries to shoo him away, because obviously he is not Coriolanus, so she doesn't care.

But then this stranger tells her, "It is time for you to leave, Miss Coin."

"Wh-what?" she asks, stunned. She's still wearing Coriolanus's jacket, and she pulls it closer to her, as if it could protect her from this horrible statement.

"This house is no longer yours. It is owned by Mr. Coriolanus Snow, as are the rest of your possessions. We have already given you over a week to leave. Now, my client can wait no longer. It is time for you to leave."

"B-but can't we live together?" she asks. Her mind is spinning, her head aching, her world beginning to fall.

"No. Mr. Snow specifically told me to evict you. This is his home now, and you are of no value to him."

With that one statement, it's like the last strand snaps—the last of what had been keeping her together—and everything, everything is _wrong_. _Owned by Mr. Coriolanus Snow… time for you to leave… of no value to him…_

She doesn't want to believe it—doesn't want to believe that Coriolanus isn't a prince, that he's something entirely, that she's of no value to him. She wants to believe that she's just been held up by a dragon, that what this man is telling her is an ugly, ugly lie.

But her father is dead, and here a dark man is in front of her kicking her out of her childhood home. Coriolanus hasn't contacted her in over a week. And this jacket, this jacket she is wearing that has always smelled of beautiful roses to her, suddenly smells _wrong_. She inhales the sweetness and immediately chokes, because there is something acrid and pungent underlying the fake saccharinity and _how has she not noticed this before_? This man is telling the truth.

And everything else she had believed in was a lie.

"I—" Something like a strangled sob escapes her, a desperate cry, and it takes every ounce of will in her body to not break down sobbing. But strangely enough, she doesn't feel like crying. She feels hollow, emptied out, incapable of even tears. "Okay," she says flatly. "I-I'll leave."

"Is time to pack needed?" the man asks.

"N-no. I don't have a single thing to my name anyway, right?" She begins to laugh hysterically, throwing off the jacket that smells of blood and roses, stumbling out of her house, wondering what she should do. She tries to walk out with her head held high in a dignified manner, but she barely manages for a few seconds before breaking into a desperate run, tears streaming off her face, still laughing hysterically.

**.**

In the mansion, the fairy tale book lies open on the spotless tile floor.

_And they all lived happily ever after… _

**[end]**


End file.
